


magnate brainrot collection

by crimsonbossu



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Unrequited Love, i also threw some nickles in there for the homos, im bad at tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonbossu/pseuds/crimsonbossu
Summary: Some random magnate one-shots I decided to curse this world with.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Magnus Hammersmith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	1. Stop Doting on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing off the headcanon that Magnus and Nathan were the first band members.

"Stop _doting_ on me. I'm not your kid," Nathan huffed, attempting to pull away.

Magnus kept a firm hold on his bandmate's wrists as he examined bloody knuckles and chipped black nail polish. Nathan had come back to the flat with a dark bruise under his eye and red smearing his fists. Something that was quickly becoming the norm. He pulled out a roll of bandages, earning a sour grumble from Nathan.

"Jesus, I'm not that old yet Nate, slow your roll." he shot back, accompanied by a teasing smirk and an eye roll.

"Still. Why do you care."

Magnus gazed up lazily from his work into his friend's face. Sitting across from each other on the unswept floor of their shared flat, he thought about how they'd gotten here in the first place. Weeks of ideas being scrawled out on notepads, countless hours doubting it all, moments of clarity, seconds of true weakness. This shared dream, this band. It was all the two of them wanted. All they dreamed of at night, and during the day for that matter. Their longing for a future filled with music and fame and booze.

It was going to happen. Dethklok was destined to be.

Magnus blinked back into the situation at hand. "You're not my kid. But you certainly are my _problem._ I can't have my ticket to fame-"

Nathan's eyebrows raise, then subsequently fall into a questioning glare. He never was one to recognize a quick sarcastic remark. Maybe that's why he got into all these brawls.

"-joking. Can't have _our_ ticket to fame fucking himself up every two seconds. Looks bad, Nate, we need respect if this band’s gonna take off." Magnus finished his inspection and loosened his grip, only to have Nathan yank his hand back preemptively anyways.

"They were assholes. Asking for it." His eyes faltered for a moment, opting to stare down at his now-bandaged fists. "Stop calling me Nate." He added, slightly hushed. Magnus chuckled in response, which earned another classic Nathan glare.

"Whaaat? But Nate's a good name!"

"S'not mine though." 

"It's just a nickname, bud." Magnus relinquished, shrugging, "Suit yourself! Just thought it was cute." That last part may have been a mistake. The word lingered on the air between them, creating a stillness that made both of their heads ring.

Magnus braced for-- something. "...how's your eye-"

"Why'd you say that." Nathan burst out. His jet black hair hung over his face more than usual, obscuring whatever emotion was surely dancing across his face. Magnus resisted the urge to push it away, knowing how tense Nathan was right now. He should have known that 'fluffy language' would get this kind of response; it's not like this hadn't happened already. Magnus ran his mouth, said something gay, and Nathan didn't process it. At least this time he didn't just flat out ignore it, but Magnus didn't know if that was a good thing yet.

Play dumb. "Say what? I won't call you Nate anymore, no problem-"

Cut off by the curtain of hair again. "NO. The, uh. the. The last word. I'm not that, don't call me that. Please." He stumbled out, clearly some sort of flustered, whether he tried to hide it or not.

Magnus considered his options for a moment. One: Say okay and shut up, making it more awkward than it already was. Two: Risk getting my own ass decked by pushing back on this. Tilting his head to the side, he decided: _Fuck it._

"You sure 'bout that? I'm open to debate." Magnus offered a smile, even if Nathan couldn't see it. "Suits you just fine in my opinion." Magnus felt the stillness start to break.

"I- uh. Hm." Nathan picked at his fingers, the bandage already starting to wear down because of it. "People don't- they… uhm call me. That. Not the nickname the- well people don't call me that either- uM." Magnus noticed his friend's broad shoulders and triceps flexing, reflecting the strain in his tone.

A moment passed. "Tell me...?" Magnus tried. 

Nathan made a noise of discomfort. "CUTE. GOD." he forced out, finally, tenser than Magnus usually sees him. "I'm not CUTE. I'M FUCKING BRUTAL." Mumbling out a "you're the worst," he turned his head sharply to the side, refusing to even entertain the idea of facing this head-on.

An outstretched hand made its way over to the ocean of black hair, parting it aside to see the singer with an odd look on his face. Nathan's eyes, finally unobstructed, darted between the hands in his lap and the hand near his face. 

"You're brutal, man. Most brutal guy I've met, no question." Magnus tucked the hair behind Nathan's ear, before letting his hand fall back into his lap, a bit surprised it wasn't slapped away. "But you don't gotta stop there, I guess. Nothin' wrong with being- y'know. Nothin' wrong with that at all." he finished, not sure of what else to say. For once, Magnus was at a loss for words.

The silence that followed wasn't as uncomfortable as before, at least. Magnus watched as Nathan let go of a little tension in his shoulders, either relaxing or giving up; Magnus couldn't tell. Hopefully the former. This had gone fairly well, at least compared to what could have happened. Magnus cursed himself and his lack of a filter. God, he seriously needed to moderate his thoughts, or just fucking keep them in his head. 

Nathan, though calmed down, still refused to look at Magnus. The room had dimmed since they got there, it must have been getting dark outside. In the desaturated light, Magnus almost swore Nathan was blushing. Another grin teased the corners of the guitarist’s lips, not sure what to think anymore. Maybe this was good. Just getting it out there. Whatever ‘that’ was.

“Let me just look at your eye before you go. It’s not often one of those losers lands a blow on ya, big guy!” he teased, and the air felt lighter. 

\--

Nathan stared at his reflection in the cramped bathroom’s mirror, long after his friend had turned in for the night. Faint snoring echoed in from the other room as he went to move his hair aside to check his now slightly swollen eye. Rough fingers lingered behind his ear where nimble ones had been earlier that night, as something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should wear his hair like that more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments I will love you forever


	2. Regretful Retaliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My interpretation of the Magnus Beatdown™️  
> I made it gay and frustrating

Each sickening blow hurt more than the last, for both parties involved.

The itching and burning in his shoulder was barely recognized, cast out of Nathan's mind in favor of focusing on his regretful retaliation. This is wrong. He shouldn't be doing this, this shouldn't have happened, _why did this happen to them. Stop. Why couldn't he STOP._

It wasn't a fairytale romance, not even close. Just a stupid mutual crush that neither of them knew how to take further. They were too lax, too reckless with their feelings to think about the ramifications of cozying up with a business partner. Hushed praise and hand-holding behind closed doors didn't mix well with death metal.

Nathan hadn't started this, he hadn't, he couldn't have, this wasn't his fault. It was Magnus who'd blown up on him, Magnus who'd taken his words too far into his heart and decided a literal stab in the back was in order.

It wasn't his fault.

Not that it mattered at this point.

His fists kept connecting to angular features, dripping with red that occasionally stuck to his bandmate's wild mane, spread out on the dirty floor. Nathan's body seemed to be running on autopilot now. Glaring down at his victim, who wasn't even putting up a fight. At least, not since he dug metal straight into the vocalist's shoulder blade.

\---

Magnus didn't even remember the first blow to his face, the beat-down seemingly spanning across both seconds and a century. It hurt. His own hands were held defensively out from himself, pressing against the force bearing down on him. Against Nathan. _That_ Nate. Magnus had been witness to Nathan's brawls before, always expressing his distaste aloud but his amazement in private. He should have known he would've ended up on the receiving end one day. That's what happens when you let your guard down, when you get all vulnerable. It gets you here.

But it was Nathan. It was the man he entrusted his faith, his song ideas, his fucking everything. In his frequent anger spikes, Nate calmed him down, acquiesced, told him he had his everything, too. Until he didn't. Until this.

He'd called him crazy before, amongst other things. But Nathan was being endearing then, right? This wasn't a one-time thing, just something that happened when they were tipsy and frustrated. Magnus wasn't crazy. Jealous, maybe. Overbearing, probably. Fucking frustrated, most definitely.

So why'd he call him that? And why had it hurt so much? Why was this _happening_ to them?

\---

Nathan finally slowed his onslaught, heaving at the effort. His shoulder stung, his eyes stung, his fucking heart felt like it was pumping acid. Magnus didn't move. Nathan froze along with him, heart almost stopping at the sight beneath him.

 _Magnus. Fuck. Get up, do something, FUCK!_ His mind was screaming, though his vocal cords failed. Blood on his fists and the floor and the face he'd called beautiful before. Nausea wracked through him at the sight of it all, as he scrambled away from the man he thought he admired, his good shoulder now against the wall as he shook with fury, confusion, worry, with every feeling bottled up in him. Magnus stirred, and he shook more.

\---

Pickles found them. Nathan hadn't moved, still staring at what he'd done, unable and unwilling to process what just happened, as Magnus laid on his side trying not to choke on his own blood. Pickles went to Nathan, first. Of course he did. Magnus always saw the looks he gave Nathan, even if the singer never seemed to notice.

Magnus didn't want to care anymore. He couldn't even see them if he tried, black and red obscuring his vision almost completely. He didn't want to see that. He didn't even know if he wanted to see _Nathan,_ sure that he'd never look at Magnus again if he didn't have to. Magnus was a problem, and Nathan didn't face his problems well. He just punched them.

Pickles made that Murderface guy clean up the mess. The bassist couldn't even take care of _himself,_ so thankfully Magnus didn't need the attention. He should go to a hospital for his eye, but that's money. He should just leave. Now.

And he did. Took some gauze, vodka, and whatever belongings he could throw in the backseat of his dirty truck, and that was it. He knew he shouldn't look back. Magnus wasn't wanted. He drove twenty minutes before he started to regret it. Thirty minutes before he really thought about what happened. An hour passed before he acknowledged how much he was going to miss Nathan. He could only hope that feeling was mutual.

Magnus wished he could take it back.

Nathan wished he could forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you leave me a comment I will personally kiss you on the forehead. Please do that :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!! I'd love to hear them :)


End file.
